


A touch of Cinnamon

by JudusEye



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Cereal, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Late at Night, M/M, trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudusEye/pseuds/JudusEye
Summary: Jordan has an odd request for Mike at one in the morning.
Relationships: Mike "Thatcher" Baker/Jordan "Thermite" Trace
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	A touch of Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mirrorworldangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirrorworldangel/gifts).



“Mikey.”  
No response. Jordan huffs quietly and tries again in a louder lullaby.  
“Mikeeey.”  
The older man groans loudly and rolls on his side, akin to a massive blue whale breaching the ocean surface and displacing massive amounts of water around it when gravity pulls it back to earth; their pale blue sheets billow around him and then promptly slips off the bed onto the ground in a silky pile. A couple seconds pass with his little bundle of joy showing no intention of getting up, so Jordan tiptoes around the foot of the bed to stand by Mike’s head and bends at the hip, hands clasped behind his back, the perfect picture of a little kid looking through a store window at fancy mechanical toys. He leans in real close to press a small kiss to the corner of his jaw and smiles at the content sigh he hears in return. It’s extremely adorable and he could spend the next hour just watching him sleep soundly, but Jordan Trace is a man on a mission and he has always prided himself in getting the job done.  
“Miiiiike, wake up.”  
At first, Jordan thinks that the old belt on the engine below the deck has broken again despite the near four and a half hours Mike spent fixing it, but the whine he hears is coming from his 5’11, respected warrant officer of the british military, specialist in the most distingushed counter-terrorism agency in the world, and certified badass husband.  
For a moment, he rethinks his decision to try and wake him up, floundering in his spot beside Mike’s head. It is almost one o’clock on a saturday morning after a long week full of breaching drills with two new recruits from Russia and France, who just so happened to know each other from previous special operations and just so happened to hate each other’s guts and did not shy away from making attempts on each other’s lives. Including a rather notable event where the Frenchman managed to destroy the floor beneath the Russian recruit, sending the large man tumbling down, stunned. The resulting chaos had to be broken up by Thatcher, who happened to be just close enough to stop the Russian from strangling his partner with the barrel of his rifle at the last second. But when he left them alone after a good 15 minutes of berating them, the Russian immediately turned around and broke a piece of wood from the ceiling over the Frenchman’s helmeted-head who retaliated by sending the two of them straight through the wall beside them. “They are just practicing unconventional breaching techniques!” Jordan had shouted at Thatcher’s back as he stormed into the newly opened room with murderous intent. The rest of the day was spent between the two recruits with an impressive frown and an aura of ‘test me one more time’ storming around him.  
Mikey was so peaceful looking now, no tension hardening the lines in his face. Don’t get him wrong, Jordan loved that stern face and the way it contrasted his own, but sometimes it was nice seeing him relaxed. And his thick black hair was extremely adorable before he gelled it down in the morning, tangled wildly on one side and completely flat on the other side from smooshing his head into the pillows. But on the other hand, the Iron Maggie was so lonely at night sometimes; Jordan had no idea how Mike managed to live on his own, alone in the middle of the ocean with just the sounds of the wind and the rumbling from the deep. Some of the noises he heard at night made him contemplate the stories of sea creatures that terrorized sailors hundreds of years ago and maybe he hugged Mike tighter closer at night because of it.  
But the decision is made for him when Mike peers up at him with squinted eyes.  
“Mmmm, what…?”  
He has to suppress the shivers that run up his spine at his raspy, low voice. Because what he’s about to say is going to ruin any mood he could possibly try and create.  
“Mike, will you come eat cereal with me?”  
The silence that follows is so long that Jordan fears that Mike has fallen right back asleep after determining that what Jordan had said was not an emergency. He was getting ready to ask again when Mike wiggles into a sitting position, the thick duvet falling off his bare chest, and rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, “What?” he grunts, confused.  
“I’m hungry, will you come eat cereal with me?”  
Mike slumps against the headboard.  
“Pleas-”  
“M’yeah I’m getting up.” He sits up in bed, groaning as he does so and kicks his feet over the edge of the bed. Jordan smiles widely and bounces in place waiting for him to get up, he has to wait for Mike to pick up the sheet and toss it back on the bed before he can lead them out of their small room to the slightly larger living space. There’s already a bowl set up on the table; he had tried to sit down and snack alone but it felt wrong and he couldn’t stomach it. A chair squeaks behind him as he pads to the cupboard, he turns to see Mike with his elbows on the table propping up his head, eyes closed. Jordan smiles sweetly, leans against the countertop with his arms crossed over his chest and just watches the other man. Studies the curves of his face and feels his heart warm inside his chest. Sometimes he wonders how lucky he must be to end up like this, the world works in mysterious ways. Sometimes you must lose something to gain something, even if it hurts. Jordan shakes his head and opens the cupboard, searching for a bowl and the cereal.  
It’s a careful job balancing all his items needed for cereal in his arms, but he makes it work and sets everything down gently on the table with a gentle clink. “Do you want Captain Crunch or Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” Mike makes a groan of indifference so Jordan pours two bowls of the sweet cinnamon cereal and plops down in the seat beside him. They eat quietly, the sound of the ocean gently lapping against the hull of the Iron Maggie breaking the occasional silence. Mike falls asleep a couple times; on one occasion, dropping his spoon that clinks loudly against the bowl and startles him awake, sending Jordan into a laughing fit.  
“Oh shut up,” he grumbles and pushes the bowl away from him. Jordan manages to control his giggles and sighs contentedly, snuggling into his husband’s side. They sit peacefully for a couple minutes, enjoying the feeling of each other and the sound of the deep ocean that doesnt seem so ominous to Jordan anymore, before Mike breaks the silence with a yawn.  
“Why did you ask me to come eat cereal with you at,” he checks his watch, “1:25 AM?”  
Jordan smiles and holds Mike’s warm hand gently between his own “I just wanted a reason to be with you.”


End file.
